Disclaimer: I own nothing associated with "Without a Trace". I make no money from this!

Chapter Seventeen

The "24 Hour Motel", Boston's Southside

2.51pm

The wind beating against his face, Martin turned around to see what Danny had discovered. His partner was crouched down, gingerly parting the branches of the forlorn shrubbery bordering the building's front. Kneeling next to him, he peered into the gap as Danny pulled his coat sleeves over his hand attempting to touch as little of the objects as possible without the benefit of gloves. Martin watched as Danny carefully inspected the items before them – a men's leather wallet and a tarnished cell phone. As he delicately flicked the wallet open, its owner soon became clear. Behind a translucent plastic cover was a credit card clearly embossed with the name 'Mr. A. Walker'.

Pulling out a tissue from his pocket, Martin picked up the battered phone hitting the 'on' button. The screen flashed to life, quickly displaying a message announcing 38 missed calls. Scrolling up the menu to find the time of the first call, it soon appeared the device hadn't been used since around eight on Monday evening.

"Well, whatever happened," Danny mused, "it doesn't look like the guy was mugged." Using a pen he pried open another section of the wallet to reveal a large bundle of cash. "He must've dropped these here Tuesday morning when the waitress saw him. So wherever he is now, he probably doesn't have any ID on him."

Martin nodded soberly, pulling out his own cell phone. "So, we're looking for a John Doe."

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Home of Adam and Laura Walker, Hempstead, NY.

2.32pm

"I don't understand."

Laura Walker tailed bemusedly behind Jack as he stalked contemplatively around her kitchen.

Samantha stood quietly in the doorway, a half-smile dancing briefly across her face, as she watched the man in front of her spring to life. Although it was still only early afternoon, his tie was hanging away from his collar where he'd toyed with it during Adam's message, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His earlier defeat had been replaced with a determination, a sense of purpose in his eyes that she had almost forgotten could exist there. As she allowed herself for a moment to simply study him, she realised what the change was. It was hope.

As Jack spoke, he could feel the urgency edging into his own voice, but seemed powerless to stop it. Although a part of him was aware that he was operating on, at best, a partially informed hunch, the strength of the instinct that had overwhelmed him with Danny's casually spoken words was undeniable. This was Jack Malone at his best, and somewhere, deep down he still knew it.

"Mrs Walker, I appreciate how difficult this must be for you right now. But I really think he might be the one who can help us to understand why your husband is missing."

As the shaken woman continued to regard him with a wary distress, Jack tried one more time to make her understand.

"Mrs Walker, I know you don't want to involve him in any of this, but this is really important. I need to talk to David. I need to talk to your son."

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Perched somewhat awkwardly on the edge of the faded X-Men bedspread, Jack looked hesitantly at the fair-haired boy at the other end. Hidden beneath his fashionably loose-fitting pants and an over-sized hooded sweatshirt, David Walker seemed impossibly small, even for a ten year old child. Forcing the unavoidable images of his own daughters to the back of his mind, he smiled as encouragingly as he could manage. Now he was sitting here, surrounded by comic books and sports trophies, Jack began to wonder if he was doing the right thing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Laura Walker hovering nervously in the doorway. Behind her, it only took a brief glance for him to recognise the hint of worry etched on Sam's face. Although David's mom had explained to him at least some of the reason why the people from the FBI had been around their house for the last two days, it was hard to discern exactly how much the boy understood intuitively. Judging by the troubled expression on his face, Jack surmised that he perhaps understood more than he was being given credit for.

"Look, David, you're not in any kind of trouble, okay?" Jack kept his tone as soft as his gruff demeanour would allow. "It's just that we really want to bring your dad home, and if you can think of anything… something that you might not have told your mom, that might give us a clue to where he is, then you'd really be helping him out. Do you understand?"

David nodded mutely.

Ignoring Laura, who was slowly edging further into the room, Jack leaned a little closer toward the boy. Even to himself, his actions felt perversely as if he were negotiating with a regular hostile witness. He could only imagine what this scene must be doing to David's mother, and again banished thoughts of Kate and Hanna.

Watching his mom's approach, David drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them protectively, one hand playing nervously with the baseball that had rolled toward him at this movement. As he did so, Jack watched Sam step forward and put a soft but restraining hand on Laura's arm. The look she shot her partner was now more questioning than worried, but the sentiment being conveyed was plain. If Jack knew where he was going with this theory, then he better get there quickly.

Briefly catching her eye in acknowledgement, he turned back to David. "Okay…"

"It's my fault."

The admission was so quiet that Jack barely caught it. Although from the gasp on the other side of the room, it was obvious that the message had come through clearly enough. As his mind processed the near inaudible confession, Jack was once again aware that Sam's hand was still lightly grasping Laura's arm, buying him enough time to form a response. He looked gently at the shrunken figure before him. When he spoke, his voice was barely louder than the boy's.

"What's your fault?"

For the first time since the three of them had entered, David raised his head. As he did so, he looked first directly at Jack before turning sorrowfully to meet his mother's eyes. Seeing the tears that had started to form there, he turned his attention back to the agent on his bed. His face was set in resignation, but his chin was jutted out in determination.

"It's my fault he got so mad at me. If I hadn't made him angry, he wouldn't have had to leave."

At this statement, Laura rushed forward to her child. This time Sam made no attempt to stop her. Instead, she let her focus move to Jack. Whilst Laura knelt emotionally in front of her stoic son, Jack looked on. His expression was focused but contemplative, as if his mind was slowly filling in the blanks as he detachedly watched the scene play out. Yet the sorrow, however fleeting, that she observed in his eyes, betrayed his calm professionalism.

"What did he get mad about?"

Despite the understanding tone beneath the question, Laura Walker turned sharply towards her son's interrogator. However, before she could voice her anxiety, her son's voice broke the tense silence that had fallen over the room.

"Me. He got mad at me."

Laura turned helplessly back to David who was absently passing the baseball from hand to hand. As if needing no further confirmation of his mom's feelings, David sought out Jack's eyes with his own. Holding his gaze, Jack nodded solemnly but reassuringly in a tacit understanding. Laura opened her mouth to intervene only to be silenced by her son.

"Mom!" His eyes never left Jack.

Seemingly at a loss to process this latest turn of events, Laura pushed herself shakily to her feet, as David continued resolutely.

"It was on Sunday at my soccer game. I got into a fight with this kid and I know I shouldn't have hit him but he was being mean and it just made me really angry so we started fighting 'til his coach stopped us… but my dad… I don't know, he saw the fight and coach said something to him and … it just… he was really mad… and I tried to say I was sorry and I didn't mean it, but he… he wouldn't even talk to me and…," his voice hitching, David turned to Laura. "And then before I went to sleep dad came into my room and he said he was sorry and that it was going to be okay and that he was going to sort everything out and…"

Her breath catching in her throat, Laura Walker turned to Jack as she put her arm protectively around her son. Her voice was tight but firm.

"I think we can continue this discussion elsewhere, don't you?"

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3.14pm

"Oh God. How did I not see this? How did I not notice what was happening?"

Now back in the living room, Jack regarded the women opposite him compassionately. However, the words of comfort he knew he should offer were just beyond his reach. After relenting to let Samantha keep a sympathetic eye on David, Laura had calmly accompanied the other agent from her son's room before sinking down into her familiar chair, her head in her hands.

Jack waited patiently for her to compose herself. When she finally looked up at him there was a new desperation in her expression.

"I knew something had happened at that soccer game. I knew it." She took a breath to steady herself. "They were both acting so strangely when they came home. But neither of them said anything to me so I just thought I'd let them sort it out for themselves, you know? And then when Adam volunteered to go make sure David was in bed, I just assumed they'd patched things up. I should have realised that this was different…"

"Mrs Walker," Jack interjected cautiously, "how long has your husband had concerns about…"

Allowing his question to tail off, Jack followed Laura's eyes as they drifted back to the family photos displayed all around them. Feeling that his presence was suddenly inconsequential, he fell silent as Laura began speaking, as though addressing the frozen images of her family.

"I really thought that he'd gotten past this."

Jack watched silently as she rose from her seat and wandered over to the pictures, fingering them almost reverently.

"We talked about all this before David was born. Adam was devastated when his mom told him about his dad being sick, but we discussed this. We both knew about the genetic implications, I even had one of my colleagues talk to us about it. He knows that just because his father had an illness, doesn't mean that he will have, or that David will." Her hand traced the outline of the photograph. "We've been through all this before."

Still absorbed in the memories, she continued as Jack listened solemnly, her attention fixed on the framed image of Adam, David and the dirty soccer ball. "The first time it happened, David couldn't have been more than five or six. I remember, because it was just after I'd gone back to working a full week at the clinic. They'd gone camping for the weekend and when they came back, Adam was acting really strange. When I finally got him to tell me what was wrong, he started saying that David was 'exhibiting symptoms'. When I asked him what he meant, it turned out that he'd been reading up about the disease." She sighed, once again reaching for the picture. "I tried to tell him that David was just a kid, and he was gonna act out sometimes. He was adjusting to my returning to work, and Adam had been putting in long hours at the firm, and he just wanted some more attention. We gave it to him and everything was fine. But then every time he got in a bad mood and didn't want to eat his dinner, or if he didn't sleep well, or didn't do as he was told right away, Adam took it as this sign. I tried to explain to him that diagnosing something as extreme as bi-polar in kids David's age is far from an exact science, but for a while it was like he just couldn't let it go. Eventually I got another doctor from my clinic to talk to us, and it seemed to reassure him. Sure David had a bit of a temper and he could have mood swings, but it was never that extreme. It really did seem that it was more than likely he was worrying about nothing." She paused momentarily. "I know it didn't make the whole thing disappear, but I think it at least convinced him that it was as much my responsibility as it was his." Reluctantly withdrawing her hand from the photographs, she took a breath. "If he was still so worried about David, I just don't understand why he wouldn't talk to me about it first before running off and…"

Jack's voice startled her out of her reverie.

"So, it's quite possible that Adam went all the way to Boston, specifically to see Dr. Crawforth, because he was concerned about your son? Only he never made it to the appointment. We can assume that he chose Dr. Crawforth because he was familiar with her reputation from the time you both spent in Boston. But you never thought that…"

Sensing the agent's reluctance to broach the only question that now had any real significance, Laura Walker rubbed her eyes offering up a tired smile. As she appraised Jack, her response was not without irony.

"Why don't you just ask me what you really need to ask me?" She sighed. "Is my son crazy, or is it my husband?"

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Boston Medical Center

3.35pm

"He was brought in unconscious by the EMTs on Tuesday morning at around nine fifteen am," the doctor instructed rapidly as Martin and Danny hurried after him down the maze of corridors to the more secluded area of the hospital. Following him through yet another set of swing doors, Danny once again had the photograph of Adam Walker in his hand, looking briefly at it as he entered the room. As they viewed the figure before them, the agents exchanged glances.

"It's him," Danny nodded in confirmation at the doctor.

The doctor smiled courteously. "I can go through the details with you now, if you'd like."

"We'd appreciate that," responded Martin quietly.

Again Danny nodded. "Our boss is with the family in New York. We'll need to call him with the news."

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Home of Adam and Laura Walker, Hempstead, NY.

3.45pm

The ringing of Jack's cell phone had drawn Samantha from her watch-station in David Walker's bedroom, back to the living room. As she entered, a heavy silence, oblivious to the ringing phone, suffocated the room. Laura Walker was leaning against the mantle, a photograph held absently against her chest, but her eyes were fixed on the male agent. Observing Jack's body language, Sam could tell that her concerns about his emotional investment in this case would not be going away any time soon.

After a beat, Jack grudgingly checked the caller ID. "Danny?" he grunted into the phone.

Sam watched silently as Jack's demeanour relayed to her the nature of their colleague's news. Turning slightly away from Laura, he kept his responses minimal. After a couple of minutes of mumbled agreements, he finally spoke. His voice was low and reverberated solemnly around the room.

"Thanks, Danny. Okay, you two may as well catch a flight home tonight." He sighed. "Yeah, I'll take care of it."

Instinctively catching Sam's eye as he ended the call, Jack turned back to Laura. Although she resolvedly held his gaze, her face was ashen and the hand which now held the photograph to her side was trembling. Not wanting to prolong the moment unnecessarily, Jack took a breath.

"Mrs Walker, that was my agent in Boston. Your husband was discovered collapsed on the street on Tuesday morning." He watched as her free hand fumbled before gripping onto the ledge behind her, before he hurriedly elaborated. "He's in the ICU at Boston Medical Center." Seeking out a reaction, Jack continued. "He was unconscious when he was admitted and had no form of ID on him at the time, so until just now he was listed as unidentified." As Laura stared at him, fighting for comprehension, he saw the silent question appearing in her eyes and nodded understandingly. "I'll arrange a flight for you and David myself." Maintaining eye contact, he added a final remark so softly that Sam had to strain in order to hear him.

"It might be best if you flew out this afternoon."

TBC

A/N: Woohoo, only two more chapters to go – hopefully:)